Category Archives: Boys

Hey Hey, You You, I Could be Your Girlfriend

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Fun fact. During Mile Twelve of the half marathon, Steph and I were belting out the Avril Lavigne song that was playing on the side of the road. The other runners were not thrilled with us.

So. Proper forewarning. This is going to be easily the cheesiest, gushiest, girliest, most ridiculous post I have written in possibly my entire life. I mean, there’s going to be a TON of sappiness in this. A TON. I give you this warning so you can go ahead and stop right now if you’d like, if you don’t want to get the gooshy stuff.

Question. I’ve asked this of a few people, but I think a general putting out there of it will be helpful.

This new title of “girlfriend” I’m wearing….does it make my butt look big(ger than it already is)?

Yeah, so Goalie Cop? Now can be referred to as Goalie Cop Boyfriend.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I realized this morning that there are so many different sets of my ladies (who are grouped in pairs, strangely enough) to tell about this, yet all of you read here (even, I’m 98% sure, Alison (hi Alison!!)), so here are details/answers/etc.

Ok, so you know the basic story. Met boy, have been on dates with boy, have been swooning about boy, etc. But the details are so much better.

I met GCB through a bunch of Blues fans at one of our watch parties. He caught my eye the INSTANT he walked into that bar. As in, had to pick my jaw up off the floor type caught my eye. I ended up sitting and talking with him, his friend, and his friend’s wife. Guys, I can’t even begin to tell you how strong that spark was. Like sucker punch to the face strong.

As we were walking out that night, he handed me his card. By the time I got home, there was a tweet headed at me telling me that waiting for three days to call or text was SO 2011.

He invited me out for ice cream less than 24 hours later.

Last night everything became “official.” Except for the Facebook part, since I’ll never break up with April on Facebook. Never ever.

Less than two weeks, and Ann has a boyfriend. You know what, though? I have never in my entire life been so sure about someone. Honestly, I was absolutely certain I was going to be with him before we finished eating ice cream on that first date.

Let me tell you about him, and then I’ll break things down.

Like I said, he’s a goalie (so hot…so, so hot) and a police officer. Since he has a public job, I won’t use his name, but he works for St Louis Metro PD. He’s 29 and 6’4 (!!!!!) and makes my stomach flutter every single time I see him. He tells me I’m beautiful and then when I do something he doesn’t expect, he calls me “Fembot.” He’s a huge Blues AND Cardinals fan and has made it perfectly clear that he is just as into this as I am. He’s cooked for me and come out to see me run after only an hour of sleep and a week of knowing each other. He’s gotten monstrous thumbs up from my friends already, and that coming from April is one of the biggest items in his “pro” column.

I haven’t yet found anything that goes in the “con” column.

The best part? He is HERE. He lives 15 minutes from me. Not a different city, not a different state, not four hours away with only the option of seeing each other once a month. HERE. I have gotten to see him nearly every single day since we met.

You guys? I am going to fall for this man.

I know, I know, you guys don’t even know who I am anymore. Trust me, I don’t know this side of me either, but I like her a lot.

Every single day I find a new reason to not let him go. Every single day he makes me smile until my face hurts. Every single day I have butterflies just thinking about him. Every single day he is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. Every time I have to leave him, I am counting down until I get to see him next.

He makes me feel safe and protected, like he will always be there for me to lean on if I need.

Here’s the weird (for me) part. Remember all those emotional walls I’ve got? You know, the ones with reinforced steel and bazookas and little, tiny men on top of them with grenades? They don’t exist. They have completely and totally disappeared. I don’t know where they went or when they went away.

Good fucking riddance.

On top of that, that red flag meter of mine that is so finely tuned that it will go off just being in the same building as a douchebag hasn’t even twitched. Not once.

I am not even slightly worried, not scared, not apprehensive at all about him. I want him in every single aspect of the word, and I will not be letting him go.

You know, it’s weird. I have said this to a couple friends already, but you know how when you look towards the future and wonder how things will be, how it’s all kind of fuzzy and unsure and something that’s nearly unfathomable? Since I met him, I feel like the haze has cleared a little bit, and my future is him. I’m not saying that I’m walking down any aisles, but I don’t want to be without him. Already the thought of him going away is painful.

Also, remember this list? The one wherein I compiled intangible qualities I wanted in someone, qualities that were damn near non-negotiable? So far he is meeting every single one of them. Well, at least the ones that are applicable. There haven’t been any rough spots yet.

What I find interesting is that not only does he meet that list, he meets that other “list” of things that would be nice to have, but I could live without. Things like being taller than me in heels or cheering for the same teams as I do or being able to cook. Hell, he likes Ke$ha and Star Wars.

I mean,  I WANT to cuddle with him. Want to. Voluntarily and often.

When I was telling April all of this at Friday’s home opener, she said, “Well, they say that putting what you want out into the Universe is a way of making sure you get it.”

Ok, Universe, I want to keep him.

I am over the motherfucking moon right now.

It’s Been One Week

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I ran a half marathon yesterday. Today I didn’t go into work. Not because I need to recover from the race, but because I need to recover from this week.

Well, the last week and three days.

Last Friday my girl Steph flew into town. Since then my budget and liver have both taken the most severe of beatings.

Let’s recap! I can’t believe how long this is going to be.

Friday was the final Blues home game, where we celebrated Steph’s birthday and her arrival into town, met up with bunches of fun peoples, and just enjoyed the evening.

Saturday was a Blues meetup for the final game of the season, some spectacular company, an unexpected introduction to a boy, and several rounds of delicious, delicious beers.

Sunday, being Easter, I actually spent down with some of my family, who are awesome, and then there was an unexpected late night ice cream date (!!!!). Yep, a date. I’ll call him Goalie Cop, since he is both of those things.

Monday I met up with my marathon girls for beers and to watch the Cardinals game, and we sat around laughing and drinking and joking about just how poorly all of us were going to do on this race, given how much all of us had slacked off on our training.

Tuesday two of those marathon girls came lifting with me. That’s right. We actually did work out. Go figure, right? But then we had cocktails and watched Goon, and we spread the love of the movie to Goalie Cop.

Wednesday was another date night (!!!!) followed by a meet up for the first games of the NHL playoffs, which kept all of us out late. Thanks West Coast. Thanks a lot.

That’s when shit starts to get crazy.

Thursday was round one, game one for the Blues playoffs. It was the first playoff game of any kind I had ever been to, and guys? I love playoff games. So very much. After the game, the marathon girls (sans one) and I went to a bar where it was ladies’ night and successfully killed 17 martinis between the three of us. No big deal.

Friday was the Cardinals Home Opener with April, which was followed by too many Irish Carbombs at the bar after, but I got to meet Miranda (WHICH WAS AWESOME) and seriously, even though we stood in the rain for hours, it was all so worth it.

Saturday led to some traipsing around the city looking for appropriate balloons and naps, but then more tailgating and the second Blues game of the weekend.

Yes, those are tall boys.

We did great and actually went home and to bed that night. Go us, right?

Sunday we got up far too early and went out for marathoning. Steph and I realized that we had incorrectly thought the race started at 730am. Nope. 700. At least we were there on time. The race itself was ok. I ran with Steph, who was dealing with stress fracture issues, so we didn’t finish at a time I’d expected, but I’m ok with it. We spent the entire race discussing hockey and quoting Cool Runnings, which was thoroughly entertaining to those around us. Now, however, it’s time to focus on Ragnar.

Highlights of the race? Around mile eight and a half, running through the SLU campus, Steph and I at the same time started batting at each other. Why? Because standing on the side of the road were Blues captain David BaCkes and goalie Brian Elliott. We definitely yelled “Let’s go Blues!” at them and got in return some head nods, waves, and smiles. Being that I’ve loved BaCkes for just about forever, I swooned a bit. Running while going weak in the knees is difficult.

AND THEN. Then there was Mile Nine. The bestest mile in all the land. Not only were we floating because of having just seen two Blues, but then we got to the Darth Vader balloon, under which April, one of her friends from grad school, and Goalie Cop were standing to hand us frosty Budweisers. Yeah, we had a beer stop during our run. Best. Idea. Ever. Mile Nine was a good mile.

After the race there was the delicious lunching, the epic napping, and the staying up far too late to watch West Coast playoff hockey games.

And now here I am. Sitting at home, having done just about nothing productive (besides taking Steph to the airport). It’s noon.

I am exhausted and swooning my ass off and wondering just how much of my budget I’ve trashed this week and already missing Steph and wishing April could have stayed longer and finding myself beyond fucking hopeful about this guy. I will elaborate later as I don’t want to jinx this, but allow me to just say quickly that I don’t think this one’s going anywhere any time soon. Not if I have anything to do with it, anyway.

Phew. The upcoming week seems almost boring in comparison to the last.

Until Friday, when I head up to Chicago with April for a reunion with the girls we went to Vegas with last year.

Shit shows. I’m getting really good at them.

Life is really fucking good.

If You Try Sometimes, You Get What You Need

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Can I just say I love you all for your comments and emails yesterday? Truly, I do. Seriously, you guys are the bestest (even the Anon, whose identity is still a mystery to me).

I feel, though, that there’s a teensy bit I should clarify.

When I say I know exactly what I want, it’s a list of intangibles, things that are the opposite of stuff I have seen and experienced in my past that led me down some incredibly painful roads. My list is one that may not describe a perfect person, as I don’t think anyone could possibly be perfect, but might describe someone who is perfect FOR ME. I don’t think it’s a bad list either. As my lovely friend Erratic pointed out, sometimes things on the “list” may have to take a back seat if the right person comes along, and while I know she’s absolutely correct, there are things on my list that are flat out non-negotiable. I will not go back to where I was nine years ago. I will never again be subjected to a partner who thinks it’s within his rights to control me. I don’t think I should have to either.

I want someone I can talk to.

I want someone who trusts me.

I want someone who doesn’t use guilt as a tool of manipulation.

I want someone who understands that I have my girlfriends and will spend time with them WITHOUT him.

I want someone who’s ok with that.

I want someone who doesn’t try to change things about me like how I dress, what I listen to, which sports teams I cheer for.

I want someone who’s willing to discuss opinions when we differ in mindsets, rather than getting angry because I don’t agree with him.

I want someone who is willing to admit when he’s wrong, someone who will forgive me when I’m wrong.

I want someone who will listen to me and understand that my feelings are valid, even if at times they come from a source best described as “the crazy part of Ann’s brain.” I’m capable of recognizing that I’ve been crazy, I promise. It just might take me a day or two.

I want someone I want to spend time with.

I want someone who won’t ignore what I’m saying just because it’s something he doesn’t want to hear.

I want someone who will hold my hand during the rough times.

I want someone who’s willing to cheer me on and encourage me, someone who will be my biggest fan.

I want someone who understands that I yell at the TV during hockey games. And baseball games. And football games even when I don’t have a favorite team. And curling. Oh hell, I yell at sports.

I want someone who makes me laugh. And someone who makes me think.

I want someone who makes me want to be a better person.

I want someone I don’t want to live without.

I want someone who loves me for who I am, who accepts every part of me, flaws and all, and is willing to navigate all the bumps in the road along the way. I want someone who is willing to work for it, for US, if it’s right. I want a partner and an equal, and someone who sees me as such.

I think this is a damn fine list.

Stronger

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Do you ever get those questions that just totally and completely throw you off guard? It’s hard to answer those questions, isn’t it?

Last night I was talking to a friend of mine. He knows that I’m pretty much an open book, will answer anything without incredibly good reason not to. This is why it shouldn’t have surprised me, yet it totally threw me for a loop, when our conversation took a drastic turn as he asked me, “So why are you still single?”

In certain situations, this question is more an insult than anything else, as it seems to be said with an air of “Well, you seem normal enough, but what kind of craziness are you hiding that has made you incapable of convincing someone to be in a relationship with you?” Fun, right? This time, though, it was just an honestly curious question.

Since he had asked, I regaled him with the last ten years (!!!) or so of my dating history.

Let me be incredibly honest with you guys for a minute. Ten years includes all of one long-term boyfriend (who sucked), four guys I’ve talked to/dated for about 3 weeks apiece, one that I was crazy about for a long time back in college who decided he’d rather not be in a relationship with me so we never technically dated, one I dated for only three months who went on shortly thereafter to be in multiple long-term, long distance relationships after having said he didn’t want either, a few who weren’t so much relationships as they were a physical means to an end, whatever you want to call the drama associated with That Friend, a few interests that never panned out into anything, and then the one I fell for who crushed me. Only four guys, an interest that didn’t pan to anything, two of those three-week-apiece types and then That Friend, actually fell within the last almost two years.

That is…..kind of depressing.

I wrapped everything up with, “Yeah, guys tend to think I’m better as a friend.”

Trust me, I am not saying that this is a bad thing. I adore the male friends I have, honestly and truly.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes it’s eye opening and a bit sad to see all that right in front of your face. It’s a cold-hearted truth, and brings up some insecurities I’d rather ceased to exist.

I am painfully aware that a lot of the briefness of these forays, as well as the long and drawn out periods of singledom, are very much and completely my own fault. I have incredibly high emotional walls and sometimes (ok, a lot of times) an antagonistic demeanor towards anyone who seems interested. I recognize that I have to be willing to actually let someone in if that whole perpetually single thing is going to go away.

I’m really bad at letting people in.

A lot of times I blame the ex-boyfriend for supremely fucking me up, or I’ll point at the last time I fell for someone to indicate just how well it works when I let someone get close to me. It’s so easy to just say, “Well, I’m so messed up because of how he treated me” or something similar. It’s a cop out, and I know it every single time those words leave my mouth. Every time.

The ex-boyfriend, former flings, interests, and receivers of my feelings might have left me broken and hurt and entirely shut down, but at this point, the biggest thing remaining is the clarity of knowledge about what I absolutely do and do not want.

That is one thing I have to be grateful for. I know EXACTLY what I do and do not want. I know that when a red flag makes its presence known, I pay attention. When my gut instinct starts screaming for me to walk away, I fucking listen. I don’t second-guess my gut instinct, even when it comes to giving second chances.

I know all this, and it makes me feel so much stronger than my 20-year-old self would ever have dreamed I could be.

You bet your sweet ass I am

There are those times, though, that I miss certain aspects of the dating bit. I miss feeling like someone can’t get enough of me. I miss reciprocal feelings. I miss laying in bed and just chatting about the mundane things of the day. I miss butterflies. I miss waking up and immediately checking my phone for any text I might have gotten while I was sleeping. I miss kisses that actually hold affection behind them rather than the “I’m drunk, and you’re right in front of me” kisses.

I miss WANTING someone to know every single thing about me, rather than actively trying to keep them out.

However, until that situation presents itself, IF if ever does, I’ll be just fine. I always am.

Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone.

Oops I Did It Again

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It’s late. I should be sleeping. I can’t sleep. Thought vomit.

–My little sister is pregnant. Holy crap, my little sister is pregnant. I have a niece and a nephew who I adore to the ends of the earth and beyond, but this one? This one could look like me being that we’re genetically related. Baby watch 2012 is officially ON.

–Relatedly, the number of pregnancy announcements on facebook has been UNREAL lately. At least six within the last week. Mazel tov?

–I pissed a lot of people off on Twitter the other day by ranting about how diet pills were never going to be as effective as a healthy diet and consistent exercise (this coming from an article I saw about a pill for obesity heading towards an FDA approval board). I stand by that statement, but the tone and the timing, being that it was a day or two after the article on Aerys that I wrote about how much I love my abs probably didn’t help my case. Ironically enough, I got to work this morning with an email in my inbox from WebMD and the CDC about how doctors are increasingly prescribing their patients exercise. In a nutshell, I really wasn’t trying to be a dick about it, and would rather be there to support any and everyone in their fitness goals rather than piss them off. My girl Lo and I messaged back and forth a little bit after the firestorm, and she decided to start her own blog about her journey through getting back into working out. Check her out!

–So that full marathon thing? Yeah, it’s been decided. January 13, 2013 in Walt Disney World, my friend Steph and I will be running a full marathon. Um….yikes? Yeah, I’m fucking petrified right now, but like I said on facebook, three half marathons and a Ragnar til I get to it, so focus goes to those first. Seven weeks til my next half. Ragnar’s at the beginning of June. Fuck yes, let’s do this.

–Why is it that dating comes in waves? The guy from a while back got cut because he fucked up REALLY badly (red flag after red flag after red flag). Then there was the one who I thought I had the mutual feeling thing with, but for some reason he shut down on me, which of course caused me to shut down on him. I said I’d leave him alone, and I have, though I’m still not entirely certain what happened there, which is a bit frustrating and disappointing, but there’s nothing else I can do. And finally there’s the one I’ve seen twice, maybe three times now who on paper is extraordinary but in practice? There’s something missing. Let me tell you just how much this makes me feel overly picky, and, like Ali said earlier, like I’m trying to find something wrong. I swear I’m not, so maybe there is something wrong with me? I say that mostly in jest, but on dark nights it’s difficult to convince myself otherwise. I suppose it doesn’t so much matter given that I’m sure I’ll be right back to the perpetually single life (and subsequent depressing posts) once again in short order.

–I can still taste the Pineapple Upside-Down Cake shot I took earlier. That will probably come back to haunt me. Probably some time in my lifting session that starts in six hours. If not then, I’d say definitely on the run I intend on going on after that. Seven weeks. Here we go again.

–According to this, I am a freak: